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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24756820">the last mission</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical'>shanlyrical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cato Neimoidia, Domestic Bliss, Getting Together, Other, Post-Order 66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:01:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24756820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A clone trooper left for dead meets a B1 battle droid tasked with providing a final tally of casualties.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abandoned B1 Battle Droid/Clone Trooper Left for Dead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Turing Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the last mission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/gifts">whalebone</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Republic had won the war, but damned if it didn’t feel like much of a victory. The bridge cities of Cato Nemoidia were burning, and CT-8247 of the 104<sup>th</sup> Battalion had been left for dead.</p><p>Thing was, CT-8247, also known as Foursev, wasn’t actually dying. Not imminently, anyway. He’d taken a bit of a blow to the head, so at worst, he probably had a slight concussion. But because the war was over, nobody was concerning themselves with one clone trooper who’d gotten knocked unconscious and had thus failed to keep up with his brothers. So much for brotherhood when a brother wasn’t needed, eh? Foursev figured he might as well lie in this pile of smoldering rubble and wait for the end.</p><p>“361, 362, 363…”</p><p>Foursev cursed inwardly. He’d recognize the nasal artifice of that voice anywhere – a B1 battle droid. Standard issue, most likely. Most of them were. He closed his eyes and pretended not to listen. Hopefully the droid would leave the premises and leave Foursev in peace.</p><p>“375, 376, 377…”</p><p>Dammit, no dice. The droid was getting closer and closer to Foursev, and it was still counting. It was counting corpses, Foursev realized. “388, 389, 39—”</p><p><em>Fuck this.</em> Foursev drew his blaster and pointed it at the droid’s head. “Fuck you; I’m not dead yet. <em>You</em> will be, though, if you don’t can that infernal counting and shut the hell up.”</p><p>The droid gave a pitiable squeal and dropped a blaster but didn’t otherwise try to speak further. Foursev confiscated the blaster. Great, threat eliminated. Foursev closed his eyes again, holding both the droid’s blaster and his own crossed over his chest. There. Now he could go back to dying in peace.</p><p>To Foursev’s dismay, however, the droid refused to leave Foursev’s side.</p><p>* * *</p><p>“Fuck off,” Foursev muttered.</p><p>“Negative. I have to complete my mission,” the droid replied.</p><p>The droid had been ordered to provide a complete and final tally of the total number of Republic casualties on Nemo Bridge City. This order had come down 0300 hours before the 104<sup>th</sup> ARC squadron had eliminated Separatist leadership on Cato Nemoidia and 0500 hours before the execution of Order 66 and the elimination of the traitor Jedi Master Plo Koon. The long and short of it was that neither B1 battle droid nor Kaminoan clone had any chain of command left onworld to take orders from.</p><p>“You counted 389 dead,” Foursev said. “There you go. Done and dusted.”</p><p>“Negative. As you previously stated, you are not dead yet. Therefore, I do not have a final tally of casualties.”</p><p>Foursev let fly a string of colorful expletives learnt over the course of military campaigns in a dozen different systems. He hadn’t meant to say that he intended to die in peace aloud, but apparently he had, and now the droid was shadowing him like some sort of ghoulish heap of scrap, just waiting for him to die.</p><p>Well, Foursev was a contrary son of a titration tube, as it happened, and he wasn’t about to die in front of a fucking B1 battle droid. Which meant finding a means to survive on the bombed, burnt out husk of Nemo Bridge City.</p><p>He’d managed. It was just another kind of war, really, and the mission objective was survival. And as far as missions went, it wasn’t bad. Just boring. Oh, and long—six standard lunar cycles long and counting. The city had been mostly emptied of its inhabitants, so finding shelter and food had been easy. He’d had so much time on his hands, in fact, that he’d been teaching himself how to cook. Who’d have thought domesticity could be fun?</p><p>“Hand me that can opener, will you?” Foursev said.</p><p>“Roger, roger.”</p><p>* * *</p><p>A year had passed. And then a decade. And then a second decade. Nemo Bridge City was slowly but surely repopulated and rebuilt. The Empire, conversely, fell practically overnight.</p><p>Clones weren’t bred for longevity; Foursev had never expected to see old age. Yet here he was.</p><p>And Roger – at some point, he couldn’t quite recall when, he’d started calling his droid shadow “Roger” – had never abandoned him.</p><p>B1 battle droids weren’t made for longevity either, but fortunately a hell of a lot of them had been made. This meant that whenever any of Roger’s parts malfunctioned, it was simplicity itself for Foursev to source the necessary replacements.</p><p>Annoyance became acceptance became affection. These days, Foursev couldn’t imagine life without Roger.</p><p>“Caf, caf!” Roger announced, handing Foursev his morning cup.</p><p>Foursev sipped his steaming hot caf cup and sat down by the window to watch the sun rise over the towering Cato Nemoidian cliffs. The jagged outlines were awash in crimson and gold, and the sight reminded Foursev of the burning bridge cities during the war. Nothing was actually on fire, though, except maybe the game the neighborhood children were playing out on the street. The shouts of laughter suggested things were getting quite serious indeed.</p><p>Roger sat down beside him. Foursev reached out to grasp Roger’s hand, and when Roger squeezed Foursev’s hand gently in response, damned if it didn’t feel like love. But although the durasteel claw looked much the same as it always had, the back of Foursev’s hand was wrinkled and speckled with constellations of age spots.</p><p>“Your last mission – you may be able to complete it soon,” Foursev said thoughtfully.</p><p>“Negative. You aren’t ready to die anymore,” Roger replied.</p><p>Foursev leaned forward and rested his forehead against Roger’s. He couldn’t help smiling. It was true. And if anything, they had more than ever to live for.</p>
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